


Splintered

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel In A Hoodie, Dean Carries Cas, Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Winchester Style First Aid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 14:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Cas and the brothers go to take care of a cursed mirror, none of them expect it to fight back.None of them expect Cas to be badly hurt by it either.





	Splintered

They find the body of Peter Emmet just inside the hall, broken in maybe a dozen places; he looks like a doll that some giant child snapped in a temper tantrum and then just threw to the ground.

Maybe the guy hadn’t known what he was buying when he picked up that mirror, but he probably knows now.

But at least they can be sure it’s here, and they do a room by room until they find it.

It’s all by itself, in the attic, which seems like a weird place to stash something that cost you a cool grand, but then maybe Emmet had some inkling about it after all.

Anyway, this one won’t take anything fancy: no warding with demon’s blood, no salt and burn, just a straightforward smashing up will do it, and they both have sledgehammers to deal with the glass and the frame.

Dean waits until Cas is clear before nodding at Sam, and then taking a swing at the mirror.

It’s fucking huge, and it sways and creaks with each impact - they both watch to make sure it isn’t going to topple and crush one of them - but that’s the only effect they seem to be having.

The glass doesn’t crack; the wooden frame doesn’t even chip, and maybe their research was wrong. Maybe it is going to take something fancy.

The brothers lower the hammers, both sweaty and aching, and pant as they look at each other.

They’d agreed, with how this thing feeds on energy - from humans, fear and hate, from supernatural creatures, their basic power - not to let Cas have a crack at it, but after five minutes of pounding has done nothing, maybe it’s time to step back and let the angel take a turn.

But then Cas’s yelling a warning at them, and they each feel a rough push, knocking them both back a few feet and out of the line of fire as the mirror explodes.

The frame snaps back on itself, collapsing to the floor, but the glass….

It shrapnels forwards, a hailstorm of chunks and slivers, and the only person in its path is Cas.

He’s peppered with it, throws up an arm to protect himself, and some of the bombardment drops like it hit a wall, but not all of it.

Some still gets through, and then it’s done, and they clamber to their feet from where Cas knocked them down, and watch as the angel looks down at himself.

His clothes are pockmarked with holes and blood, and there’s a wickedly spindle like shard, by far the largest, sticking out of him, right above his hip.

Cas draws in a sharp breath as it sinks slowly inside, leaving only a tiny edge jutting out.

“They’re…. They’re moving.”

Dean tosses his hammer to Sam, reaches Cas just as he starts to go down, and hauls the angel up into his arms.

++

There’s no time to head for the bunker, not with Cas writhing in pain in the back seat, using his Grace to stop the splinters of glass sinking deeper into his body and, where he can, pushing them back towards the outside.

He looks like somebody’s whipped him with barbed wire, and Dean’s raging at all of them, because they must have missed something about the mirror for this to be their situation.

But they he spots the motel they passed earlier and kicks up dirt as he spins the car into the forecourt.

Sam isn’t covered in red, not like Dean is, their angel’s blood smeared over him, so he’s the one to go in and book a room, and then they park up as far from the manager’s office but as close to their room as they can.

Getting Cas inside without jostling him, without breaking his concentration and letting those pieces of glass sink right back in, is a challenge, but they manage.

++

Sam grabs the shower curtain, tears it loose, and spreads it over the bed so Dean can lay Cas out. As he starts helping Cas out of his clothes, Sam tugs the curtains shut, locks the door, salt lines the doors and windows.

Demons haven’t bothered them in months, but he figures if they’re going to, it’ll be now, because that’s how their luck runs.

When he’s done, Cas is stripped down to skin, and Dean’s folded up a blanket and laid it out to spare Cas his dignity.

Right now, Cas looks like some full frontal is the least of his worries, and Sam can see why, but Dean and he both know what it’s like to be vulnerable in that way.

Cas, too, he supposes, but still….

His body, mainly the upper torso, but also his thighs, are peppered with bloody gouges.

They can see glass glinting in the light, and Cas shudders and groans. “They’re...pushing back in.”

Dean’s at Cas’s side, stroking his face. “No. You’re not gonna let ‘em. Just hold ‘em there, me and Sam’ll dig them out.”

Sam tips his duffel out on the other bed, and throws Dean the first aid kit while he grabs a bottle of whiskey.

Maybe ten, twelve years before, Dean had stumbled into a patch of sentient briars. They hadn’t known they were sentient, and Sam had laughed at his brother’s ripped up jeans, until they’d started to move, to break off in Dean as he’d struggled, and after Sam had spent nearly an hour digging the barbs out and dousing the wounds with liquor.

This is like that just so much worse.

Dean sanitises a couple of pairs of tweezers, and then passes one back to Sam.

He looks grim as fuck, Sam figures he does too, and then he looks at Cas.

This is going to hurt.

Cas nods, a desperate plea to get on with it on his face.

It hurts a lot.

++

By the time they’re done, Cas is a sweat slick, pale, shaking mess, and there’s a basin from the sink next to Dean filled with glass shards.

They’ve lost their fight, now, and they’re just lying there inert, but there’s just one more to go, right under Cas’s nipple, and it’s the hold out.

Cas grunts, whimpers, and pushes hard at it, so Dean can get a better grip and then he slides it right out.

It’s a wicked fucker, a good inch and a half in length, tapering to an end so fine, he studies it just to make sure none of it broke off inside the angel.

But there’s a look of relief on Cas’s face that tells him they got them all, and Dean tosses that last piece down beside the rest of them.

Sam passes him the bottle of whiskey, and Dean gives Cas a warning look.

He might not need this; he’s an angel, wounds shouldn’t get infected, but he shouldn’t have been invaded by shards of sentient glass to begin with, and he doesn’t feel like taking chances.

Cas nods, and Dean pours the whiskey over his chest, his abdomen, his legs, everywhere they dug into him.

Cas rears up, jerks, and then that’s it, he’s gone, head lolling as he passes out.

Sam feels for a pulse, needs the reassurance, but it’s there, and he rests his forehead against the angel’s in relief.

“Couldn’t make this shit up,” Dean says. He glances with venom down at the basin. “Gonna shove those in a hex bag, and bury ‘em when we’re home.”

He gets up, stretching out stiff muscles, and takes one last look at Cas. Reaches down to stroke his hair.

“Wanna put him on the other bed? I”ll clean this one up when I get back.”

Sam nods. They’re not going to be staying long, too likely somebody might have heard Cas crying out in pain though he’d tried hard to stay silent, so as soon as he’s dressed, they’ll get him in the car and go.

Better not to leave the place looking like they tortured somebody in here, in case they end up getting chased down by the highway patrol who might - if they can catch them - wonder why they’ve got an unconscious, bleeding guy in the back seat.

Dean returns from having bagged up the glass, and Sam’s got Cas wrapped in blankets on the second bed.

The shower curtain’s a goner, smeared with blood and whiskey, so Dean folds it up and dumps it in the trunk before helping Sam get Cas into a hoodie and a pair of sweats.

By the time they’re settling him in the back seat, he’s starting to come around; enough to snuggle gratefully Into the blanket Sam drapes over him before getting in the front.

“Gonna be a couple of hours until we’re home,” Dean tells the angel in the back. “Try to sleep.”

Cas takes one last look, as if assuring himself they’re both there and okay, and then his eyes close.

Sam checks back on him frequently, notices Dean stealing glances through the rear view mirror, but Cas doesn’t stir until they’re home.


End file.
